


Untangling

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: harry_holidays, F/F, Romance, Sex Toys, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-02
Updated: 2006-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:51:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Luna celebrate their anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untangling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tayefeth](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tayefeth).



Luna's hair reaches to her waist when I don't braid it for her to keep it tidy. She rarely bothers to do so herself, although during the war it was once singed quite badly as a result. That might have been the first time I noticed her for herself, and I remember it each time I bring out the comb and offer.

"If you like, Hermione," she says vaguely, and sits as my fingers twist the strands into a semblance of order. When it's been braided, then I can take it down again in the evening, watching the way it hangs free, something just for me.

There is little of her that is, I sometimes suspect. Luna is not one to deliberately hide anything – it would never occur to her to do so – but what she tells me is chosen by her own erratic whims. Some days it is all about a peculiar piece of news that will go into the next issue of _The Quibbler_ ; peculiar to anyone except for Luna and her father, that is. Other days she gets caught up in rearranging our books according to some new scheme, which she explains to me at length. The library is always in hopeless disarray, however, because she rarely gets more than halfway through her organizing before yet another idea occurs and she starts afresh once again. I told her once that she could have been a Slytherin before a Hufflepuff, and she laughed and kissed me in agreement.

Today is the five-year anniversary of when we moved in together. I had intended to come home a bit early but an unscheduled meeting was called for the heads of the three divisions in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, so I am in fact later than usual.

"Luna?" I call as I step out of the Floo and dust myself off.

I can hear her banging around in the kitchen. "I'm in here."

Her cooking can be wonderful; Mrs. Weasley has the deserved reputation of one of the finest home cooks in wizarding Britain, but Luna far surpasses her – sometimes. Other times I have to rescue the meal with something quick and simple, pasta or pancakes, or we get a takeaway from the Chinese restaurant down the street.

Tonight is one of the disaster nights. Something has scorched; I can smell the smoke, and my usually-calm Luna looks almost flustered when I go into the kitchen.

"I was looking up the breeding range of the Spotted Snorklewacker," she says, using her wand to direct the acrid fumes of burnt onion out the window. "I lost track of time."

"Don't worry about it. I promised to be in charge of dinner tonight, don't you remember?" I put my satchel down on a chair.

She smiles and reaches for me. "I remembered, but I wanted to make something special for you."

"You're special enough," I say, tilting my head back to kiss her. "Let's just pick up something from the Happy Garden; we can have a proper anniversary dinner this weekend and cook it together."

Slender arms encircle my waist. "We needn't put off other parts of celebrating, though."

I tighten my own embrace. It isn't that we don't enjoy making love, but it's easy to put it off – too busy, too tired, too this or that. Sometimes we go for weeks with just hugs and kisses, or she'll give me a back rub after a long day, or I might massage her feet. Luna has lovely feet: long, narrow, pale. I've read about female couples falling into routines where they stop having sex; there's even a term for it, "lesbian bed death," which Luna laughed at when I told her, asking if it meant we would be better able to see Thestrals. Since both of us have seen plenty of real deaths, I said that I didn't think it would make any difference, but I didn't think we wanted to test the idea.

We go to the bedroom, and I sit on the bed, far enough back that she can sit in front of me, letting me undo the braid which was so tight and tidy this morning but has begun to unravel, stray strands dangling and clinging to her neck.

"Ahh," she sighs when I finish, and runs her fingers through it, separating the strands, then raising her arms and stretching. "Thank you." She turns and kisses me, little nibbling kisses on my mouth and down along my jaw to my neck, flicking her tongue against the sensitive hollow of my throat. I undo the buttons of her shirt, the fine soft cotton falling open between us, and cup a breast in my hand.

I'm glad that Luna likes to have them caressed, because I love to do it, feeling the nipples harden under my fingers, running my thumb lightly along the curve underneath. Her breasts are small, the nipples pale pink as an infant's. Mine are larger, and at certain times of the month they are especially full and tender, and then I don't want her to touch them at all. But she never seems to have that trouble; as I push away the slippery fabric of her bra to reach the warm bare skin she exhales a breathy little moan.

I lean down and circle my tongue around the tight peak, then blow over the dampness, making her shiver and press forward.

"Hermione," she murmurs, her hands falling to my thighs, inching the wool of my skirt up so that she can reach between my legs.

"Just a minute, wait," I tell her. I roll sideways and off the bed and kick off my shoes, then roll down my tights and knickers together, leaving the skirt on. It's very much like what we used to wear at Hogwarts, and both of us get a little bit of a thrill at that pretense, that we're still in school, but doing things that we never could have done there. I hesitate for a moment, but decide not to take off my shirt and cardigan either.

She watches me, her eyes clear and wide, knowing but not judging. I kneel beside her once again and we embrace, taking comfort in the contact, in knowing that the other one is here and is not going away.

Ginny asked me why, the first year after Luna and I began to see each other. I know that she regretted not having me as a sister-in-law; that was one of the things I found hardest about leaving Ron, in fact, was losing the closeness of his family. But I had simply realized, a bit late perhaps but better that than never, that much though I loved Ron as a friend, I wanted to share my life with another woman. I didn't expect that woman would be Luna. Perhaps, once, I hoped it would be Ginny herself, but she has been very happy with Harry, and Ron had married Susan Bones before I ever went out with Luna, so it all worked out rather well in the end.

I press my lips against Luna's cheek, warmth rising within me, desire and love mingled – this is how it should be, I think as she turns her face to capture my lips with her own.

Now her hand eases up underneath my skirt again, stealthy, fingers walking along the skin till they touch hair. She brushes across my cunt lips, just grazing my swollen clit where it protrudes between them, and pulls her head back to smile at me as her thumb makes lazy circles and one finger slides down.

"You're very wet tonight."

"I've been thinking about you for hours, all through my meeting," I confess.

Her smile widens. "And what were you thinking about me?"

"About how you'd strap on the dildo and fuck me until I come, and how I'd eat you afterward."

"Eat me first," Luna says. She must have taken off her knickers before I even arrived home, because when she lies down and I push up her skirt she's bare already, and as wet as I am, pale brown hair darkened with her juices. I put my arms underneath her thighs, lifting her, and take a taste.

Luna is honey and salt and a seaweed tang all at once, and a flavor that eludes identification; she tastes the way she is. I run my tongue along the division between her lips, parting them to reach her clit, which I suckle briefly. She likes it when I flick my tongue over her clit as rapidly as I can manage, so I alter my angle to do that instead. It's tiring, but if I can't last long enough to make her come that way, she never complains. Sometimes, then, she'll pleasure herself as I watch, her fingers dancing over her own cunt.  
Tonight that won't be necessary. Almost as soon as I begin those quick strokes, I can hear her breath come faster, then small cries as she draws nearer to orgasm. One of her hands is on my head, the other clenches the duvet next to her, wrinkling it, and she tenses.

"Oh, ah!" she moans, pushing herself against my eager mouth.

I can slow down, now, lapping longer strokes over the quivering nub, feeling her spasms continue. Luna can keep coming for minutes, if I'm not too rough once she's hit the initial peak, and I love to see how long I can make her pleasure last. When it's too much, and the pleasure begins to tip over into discomfort, she starts to close her thighs; then I lift my head, wiping my mouth against my shoulder, and look up at her face.

Her eyes are half-closed, but she peers down at me and smiles. "That was lovely."

"You're welcome." I move my arms out from underneath her and wriggle around until we're lying next to each other, her bared breasts pressed against my still-covered ones.

We kiss again, long slow kisses, the taste of her fading in my mouth. Luna strokes my side and back with light touches, almost tickling, teasing down to my bum, pulling my skirt up above my waist. I open my legs and she slides one of hers between them, letting me rub my clit against her thigh. I could come just like this, but I do want her to fuck me. She was the one who first suggested we try using a dildo, when she saw me reading an article on sex toys several years ago. As it turned out she didn't particularly enjoy it, but I did.

Both the harness and the dildo are Muggle-made. After a few times Luna started putting a charm on the dildo so that it vibrates slightly; the harness presses the base of it against her clit and often she comes from the sensation.

There's something amazingly erotic about my Luna with black leather straps hugging her bum and a teal-colored dildo rising up from her cunt in a slight curve. When we chose it, neither of us wanted something that pretended to be a cock. If had, I could have stayed with Ron. When the cool length slides into me I arch my back, needing more. Luna responds, setting a slow rhythm that will quicken as the silicone warms inside my body. My hips jolt and I whimper, raising my legs to lock my ankles around Luna's back, pulling her deeper. I've been thinking of this for hours and I don't want to wait any longer.

"I'm here," she says. "I'm here, Hermione."

"Love you," I tell her. My clit aches, almost there, and I tilt my hips a little further until the shaft of the dildo is rubbing the base of my clit at each stroke, ah, so fine, and Luna's wide eyes are intent on mine as my eyelids flicker open. She kisses me, and I'm coming, coming, coming, clutching at her and shuddering as she slows down, drawing out the last flutters of my cunt lips.

My skin is flushed and sweaty, and so is Luna's, but neither of us cares. I reach up to stroke damp loose hair back from her forehead, and kiss her once more. We lie tangled in a complex knot of limbs, murmuring to each other.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to get takeaway?"

"In a few minutes, perhaps."

Later we will get up and one of us will fetch prawns in black bean sauce and fried noodles with beansprouts, and we'll eat and talk about the special things we'll do this weekend, as if simply being with together were not enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tayefeth at the 2006 Harry Holidays exchange.


End file.
